


How to Break an Archangel

by Groomps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gabriel Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Gore, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groomps/pseuds/Groomps
Summary: How to break an Archangel, courtesy of Asmodeus "Kentucky Fried Demon".Or, Gabriel's time spent in Hell getting tortured.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this in advance
> 
> Richard Speight Jr's acting in portraying a damaged Gabriel touched me so much, seeing those eyes express a thousand emotions at once, so I decided to write this to maybe begin to explain how the Archangel Gabriel was reduced to such a state.
> 
> READ: Hell time runs differently than earth time. A month on earth is approx 160 months in hell, so if Gabriel spent 8 years down there that's 1,280 YEARS of sheer fuckery. I'm going with this scenario.

The first night they brought him in, he was kicking and fighting and putting up quite the show for the surrounding demons who had to guard the cell. His mantra of colorful curses they'd never heard of before, coupled in with his witty remarks at their every action, from observing the archangel to ignoring the archangel, as fun as it had been, quickly got annoying after around an hour.

They all clearly saw the weakened state he was in, couldn't see the damaged grace but could tell something was off. Some of them made offhand remarks on how they could finally capture an archangel, one of the uber most powerful beings alive, clearly respecting their places as totally inferior to him, while some underestimated him. Threatened him with words, laughing at his inability to do anything to them, generalizing angels as pathetic weaklings.

Gabriel himself didn't seem to realize the full extent of his capture, as he thought he was to get out soon. But most of the universe thought he was dead, but his grace was severely weakened, but he couldn't overcome God knows -Dad, where are you- how many demons in such a state. But he was in denial, thought he was about to conjure up a masterful plan and get out Deus Ex Machina style.

So he didn't filter himself as he courageously hung out on the cell bars, spitting at every demon that came close. Some reciprocated the gesture by spitting on him themselves, and he replied by setting their pants on fire.

He had to admit, it was fun at first.

At first.

For the entirety of the first week they barely interacted with him, made him think all they wanted was to let him rot in a cell. Hell, they had even let him keep his clothes. So, he took his precious days to come up with Plan A of his great escape. Every day at 5 PM sharp, a demon came in to hand the rest magazines and other forms of entertainment. Idiots, Gabriel huffed. He knew it was 5 in the afternoon because the demon -the carrier pigeon, as he liked to call him- always brought tea for himself. Said carrier pigeon also held a convenient set of keys for the cell door for whatever reason, so Gabriel found it ridiculous not to try.

So, on the seventh day, instead of resting, Gabriel didn't talk for the entire day, throwing the demons out on a loop. He simply waited and waited until 5 PM rolled in. Once the carrier pigeon was in, he nudged him to come close to him, tightening his grip on the prison bars.

The demons made jokes in his expense but didn't seem to notice anything suspicious about the request and the carrier pigeon went anyway, kneeling down almost to Gabriel's eye level.

Gabriel eyed the keys dangling off of the demon's chest pocket for just a split second before meeting the demon's eyes.

"What?" The demon spoke, clearly impatient and not in the mood to be played with.

"Well," Gabriel began, before bringing his head back, holding his body in front with his hands wrapped tightly on the cell bars, and swiftly swinging it forward, full force on the demon's forehead. As planned, the pathetic douche immediately cried out in pain and held his abused forehead in his arms, losing control of his keys, which Gabriel quickly grabbed and began to fumble to unlock the door.

By the time the carrier pigeon was hit, the rest of the demons had barely seconds to react as Gabriel's super quick movements unlocked the cell door. He swung it open, hitting another demon square in the face with it and began fighting for his life.

Apparently he hadn't thought it out that well because he was quickly subdued, having attempted to smite one of them but failing. After a long lasting beating they threw him back into his cell and disappeared.

He cursed at his diminished grace, which had completely ruined his, not as amazing as he originally thought, plan.

Taking his time to heal and not burden his grace any more than he should, he leaned his head back and waited.

\--

Two weeks after his apparent capture Gabriel was denied clothing privileges, as he was forced to strip almost completely naked and have to settle for a pair of rags they likely got from another prisoner -Gabriel knew there were more, he heard the screams- who didn't make it. He wondered if it was because of his futile escape plan or because he called a chubby, and apparently quite sensitive demon, 'TLC's fattest specimen'. Either way, he wasn't very happy with this predicament, and the assholes probably weren't going to let go of the fact that they saw the archangel Gabriel in his boxers anytime soon.

The rags did little to protect against the cold cell floor, so Gabriel was forced to sit on his rear almost constantly, trying his best to avoid having his feet touch the ground. He knew they were trying to wear him down little by little, and of course he expected actual physical torture to arrive very soon. He probably wasn't abducted just to look like a hamster in a cage.

Two weeks and a day after his capture, the fun stuff began.

It was tame things at first. Every day at precisely 6 AM -he knew it was 6 AM because one of his demon guards always came in in the morning and he had mentioned once that he 'couldn't figure out how humans could wake up at such ungodly hours', 'it's 6, grow a dick Rich'- a new demon, he called that one Hulk Hogan, accompanied the usual one, one that unlocked his door and forcefully took him to a different cold room down the hallway to mercilessly beat the shit out of him for a few hours, until he spat out blood to stain the -already very stained- cold floor and his head swam from Hulk Hogan kicking it for 10 minutes straight. Gabriel tried to fight back the first time but that just meant that as soon as he went for the punch, Hulk Hogan broke his arm on contact. 

Gabriel soon came to the realization that healing himself after every time was proving to be too much for his weakened grace, since he was dedicating time to both healing it and healing his vessel, so he eventually stopped healing unless it was very severe, like a broken arm or a bleeding head. He needed to have a clear mind to think.

He also started scratching a line on the wall for each day that had passed, like he saw prisoners doing in that one TV show he liked watching.

Ah, curled up in blankets and watching daytime television. He could almost feel the warmth of the soft wool enveloping him, the gentle hum of the TV lulling him into a sense of security and-

Gabriel was violently startled back to reality by one of his guard demons slamming a pipe against the cell door bars, almost jumping out of his rags. As the vile creatures laughed and spat in his cell, he suddenly felt the first pang of real rage he'd felt in his 15 days trapped in that wretched cell.

"Yeah? Real funny, bucko! Let's see you try that in here, I'll smite your sulfur ass to the 10th circle of Hell-" 

"We're already in it, pal." They laughed over him, anything he said going by unnoticed. Gabriel's nostrils flared up as he tried to calm his nerves, realizing that anger was not going to give him any sort of relief in his situation.

Despite his best weapon being his words, he kept his mouth closed on the 15th day of his capture.

\--

Two months after his abduction, Gabriel was to spend an entire month in isolation. The demons were clearly not as patient with him as they had been a month ago, so his Plan B of his great escape went to waste. He thought it had potential to be a real good chance at escaping, but he had utilized it too late.

At exactly 9 AM, when his torture was over -he knew it was 9 AM because Hulk Hogan was wearing a watch all this time-, when Hulk Hogan was carrying him back to his cell, they always passed by a demon in a raincoat that carried an angel blade. Gabriel pretended not to know what it was for, but the guttural screams coming from all directions was a slight indicator of what was going on. 

Hulk Hogan and the demon in the raincoat -he called that one Georgie- always greeted each other with the sort of glee that you see in friends meeting accidentally in public, only they weren't going shopping or walking. When Gabriel wasn't drop dead unconscious, he would observe Georgie and carefully study his walking patterns, his reaction time when he narrowly missed a wall lamp one time and other little things about him. So that when the time would come and he had to disarm him, he would be prepared.

So, on the 60th day of his capture, as Gabriel scratched the 60th line on the wall, Hulk Hogan barged in and opened the door. Gabriel had since stopped resisting the buff demon, since he knew how that turned out, and calmly walked over to him.

"Well, let's get this over with." He spoke to nobody as Hulk Hogan grabbed him by the waist and pulled him on his shoulder, walking out of the room.

His daily dose of beating seemed a lot harsher that day, and Gabriel wondered if Hulk had anger management issues, but quickly expelled the thought when a foot connected with the bridge of his nose, shattering it instantly. Gabriel shouted in pain and protected his nose with his hands as the Hulk continued kicking in the same place, breaking three of his fingers. He moved on to the stomach, furiously punching and kicking until Gabriel was dry heaving and spitting out blood, then grabbed him by the legs in true Hulk Hogan fashion and slammed him onto the ground. Gabriel was glad most of the damage was done to his shoulder in that one move, he thought as blood dripped from his broken nose that he was trying to heal.

As Gabriel laid on his stomach and rapidly healed the major damaged parts of his body, he noticed that Hulk Hogan was wiping his hands on a handkerchief. Wow, he thought, I should look up more often.

Three hours and four broken ribs later, Hulk Hogan was carrying him on his shoulders and leaving the room when Gabriel saw Georgie approaching from the left. He knew he had to act fast, and remembered the act of cleanliness that he had seen the Hulk do today, so he did the best thing he could; infringe on that.

As soon as Georgie was within eye view, Gabriel turned his head and spit directly into Hulk Hogan's ear, making sure to get extra phlegm and blood in there. Sure enough, the Hulk screamed in what appeared to be pure unadulterated terror as he dropped Gabriel onto the ground and frantically began wiping away at his violated ear. Gabriel groaned once, then got up to face a really scared Georgie. Could he perhaps know who Gabriel was?

Gabriel wiped the crusty blood off his nose as he lunged forward at the demon, hands going in for the angel blade in his palm. Georgie let out a shriek of horror as he tried to defend himself with the blade, cutting Gabriel twice on the palm. Gabriel winced ever so slightly and managed to wrestle the angel blade out of Georgie's grasp, but when he went in for the kill he was immediately apprehended by Hulk Hogan, who had finished cleaning his ear in a flash -damn, never underestimate hypochondriac demons- and immediately pulled the angel blade away from the archangel. Gabriel noticed that Hulk Hogan hesitated on using the blade on the archangel, settling in for knocking him out instead. The last thing Gabriel saw before darkness was Georgie's terrified face and he felt a huff escape his throat at what shit demons they were using for torture instruments.

At noon of the 60th day of his capture, Gabriel awoke in a much smaller, completely dark cold cell. Suppressing a groan, he quickly healed his major wounds, fallout of the last torture session, and took a while to settle in to his new environment.

The cell was almost as big as a bathroom, but with no actual bathroom. Gabriel suddenly missed his old cell and shit demons, but actually slapped himself on the face for taking his captivity as normality.

No, not captivity, capture. Gabriel was not a wild animal needed to be tamed. He was a powerful archangel that could smite the entire building if he wanted to.

Yet he couldn't heal his nose properly.

In that one moment, Gabriel felt hopeless for the first time since his arrival in this wretched place.

On the 60th day of his capture, Gabriel stopped trying to escape.

\--

Six months into Gabriel's capture, it got a lot worse. 

His schedule had vastly changed since he was dumped in the confined walls of the dark cell he came to call his new home. His hope had mostly vanished, and the new demons he met were very good and capable at somehow reaching into the deepest parts of him and snuffing out what remaining hope he had reserved.

His entire day pretty much consisted of torture now, a schedule he knew he would come to know very well. In the early hours of the morning -Gabriel knew it was morning because of the little crack in his wall that shone some light through- a demon that vaguely resembled a character of a TV show Gabriel used to watch -he called this one Jerry because that was his name, he wore a name tag because he was a weird demon- would come in and drag him by his hair down a long corridor that led to a cell consisting of a table full of medical supplies, a slab for Gabriel to lie on, Jerry and a demon in a white suit and a bad hairdo. Gabriel had no idea what his name was, and he never spoke once. He liked to watch though, so he called him the Watcher.

Gabriel gave up on witty names around 3 months ago.

Gabriel was placed on the slab and his rags were removed, leaving him open and exposed and cold. Jerry would usually give him a piece of dirty cloth to bite down on, as he grabbed a scalpel off of the table and methodically began to make incisions down Gabriel's torso, lines going shallow and then deepening, lines shallow and lines deep. Gabriel would usually muffle his screams behind the rag he was biting, unless he spouted curses and harsh words and comments at Jerry, which was around half of the time.

Gabriel half admired Jerry for his cold calculating precision as he cut through flesh like hot butter, wiggling lines down his stomach and even creating an accidental smiley face on his chest once, something that Gabriel noticed as he was forced to heal it all back up again.

This usually went on for a few hours until Jerry moved on to phase two, which was more grace-based. He would grab a weird looking syringe and stab it directly into Gabriel's neck, causing him to close his eyes tightly and muffle more intense screams into his rag. Gabriel didn't know what they were doing with his grace, but Jerry would often glance at the Watcher, so Gabriel assumed it had something to do with him. He didn't want to get to know him.

Gabriel still made offhand comments and harsh curses at anyone that would dare to listen, which he had to admit was the last thing keeping him sane in this hell-hole. They could take his grace, but they couldn't take his voice. 

The second part of his day entailed more classic physical torture, something he had come to miss dearly. He missed Hulk Hogan and he cursed at himself for his pathetic attempts to get out and provoke whoever was running this place even more.

Oh yeah, they also told him he was useless for 6 hours straight.

Gabriel was not a fan of mental torture, completely aware of the power words had over the mind. His greatest weapon himself were words, so he didn't exactly like it when it was being used against him.

At around noon or afternoon -he guessed-, he was dragged off to another boring cold dark cell and beaten relentlessly, all while hearing repeats of "fucking die already", "useless" and a whole other bucket of happy words. Most times he would talk back, but that resulted in 16 or more broken teeth and lots of spit on him.

So, on the 180th day of his capture, he stopped talking back.

\--

Ten years into his capture by God -DAD!- knows what or who, Gabriel finally met that what or who.

In a brilliant plot twist that reminded him of an M. Night movie, Gabriel was met with the face responsible for his ordeal while scratching the wall with the 3650th line. The Watcher walked into his cell, smirked once when Gabriel squinted honey brown eyes and threw the best bitch face he could manage, and then promptly turned his entire world upside down.

He changed his schedule once again, only this time Gabriel had actually gone to the trouble of asking the exact times of everything. The Watcher had frowned once, then laughed for a solid minute before telling him anyway. Gabriel was grateful for that, despite making fun of the Watcher's nauseating southern accent.

Gabriel had changed the Watcher's name to Kentucky Fried Demon in an act of impulse, as well.

So, his new schedule consisted of heavy torture at exactly 10 AM sharp, after which he was to be subjected to Grace Hour with Jerry at 4 PM, and then surprisingly left in the care of KFD himself.

Gabriel was looking forward to that.

But before that, he had to go through whatever 'heavy torture' implied. So, once he was dragged off to whatever room by whatever demon, he was surprised to find a single chair in a well lit cell. As Gabriel sat down on the chair and fidgeted with his sleeves, he suddenly heard a loud growling that only seemed to grow in volume. His heart leaping to his chest, he silently wished that the growing wasn't what he was thinking of, and wasn't meant for him.

It was exactly what he was thinking of, and was meant exactly for him.

The cell door snapped open as a demon carrying a leash holding 3 angry hell hounds appeared in the way. Gabriel could feel his stomach tightening into a knot and wondering whether his grace would be enough to heal whatever damage was about to occur.

The demons teased him with getting the hell hounds closer, letting them smell his scent and pretending to leave, only to come back. Only when Gabriel slightly let his guard down after a few minutes had passed did the demon unleash the hell hounds, who leaped directly onto Gabriel, knocking him off his chair and aggressively scratching and biting at him.

Gabriel was freely screaming now as the hell hounds tore through flesh in nearly every part of his body, leaving him a disfigured and mangled mess. Only after Gabriel couldn't scream anymore -likely because one had torn through his trachea- did the demon remove the now bloodied up and even hungrier hell hounds and left Gabriel alone in the relative dark, not even knowing how to begin to even attempt to heal.

Thankfully, they gave him an entire hour in that cell to recover from the aftermath as choked sobs rocked his mangled body. His grace was well under half of its full power, and he had to waste even more of it on not looking like roadkill.

Grace Hour went pretty much the same, and then it was time for the KFD Happy Hour. Gabriel was dragged off to a well lit and well ventilated cell, which completely threw him off. His eyes had to squint to adjust to the new brightness after spending so long in the darkness, and he was soon met with the cold eyes of KFD.

Gabriel noticed KFD sitting on a slab in the cell and attempted to do the same, but KFD shook his finger at him. Gabriel tried to shake the finger away and sit, which earned him a good kick through his still not totally healed gut.

"Now, now, dogs aren't allowed on the table," KFD remarked, and Gabriel was instantly trying to pull him by the pretentious white suit, but he was easily shoved back onto the ground on his knees.

"Good, good job. Stay like that, just like that." He absolutely hated KFD's pretentious voice just as much as he hated his pretentious suit. He took a deep breath, then spat directly in KFD's face. KFD seemed unfazed as he wiped away the yuck.

"Y'know, you and I have a lot in common." KFD said as he finished wiping with a napkin. Gabriel actually huffed.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

KFD paused his movements to stare at the archangel, his eyes boring holes through Gabriel's whiskey brown ones.

"We were both wronged, we were both forced to flee and we both hide behind something." KFD smirked, while Gabriel did not falter.

"Do you hide behind pretentiousness?" That earned Gabriel a swift punch to the gut, and it wasn't even his best jab at anyone. KFD was slowly losing patience.

"All I'm asking is for your cooperation. Creatures like us need to stick together." Gabriel could practically see through KFD's bullshit, and gave him another good bitch face. 

"You could have asked me that a long time ago, why do all of this if you just want cooperation?" KFD chuckled at the question, his smile dying down immediately.

"Oh, that was just to make sure that you would be... ready. You're getting there, but it's gonna take a long time. Unless you agree to my proposition." Gabriel huffed in disgust.

"Yeah, I'm nobody's bitch, Colonel Sanders. Feed your horse shit to somebody else." Gabriel spat once again, this time directly at KFD's suit. Gabriel watched his eyes glow with rage as he began beating on him, a strength unparalleled to anything besides the hell hounds that he had experienced.

Once he was finished, KFD wiped his fingers with his napkin.

"You're bound to regret this, boy. Just don't say I didn't warn ya." KFD got off the slab and made a move to leave.

"Boy, you're probably 1/1000 of my age, pompous dick!" Gabriel shouted after him, even when the cell door closed. He spout blood and a tooth, which regrew immediately, and stared down onto the cell floor.

Had he made a mistake?

On the 3650th day of his capture, Gabriel wasn't sure of himself anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Fifty years into his capture, Gabriel found out KFD's real name.

Jerry was the one to unceremoniously reveal it when he called KFD -or, Asmodeus now- over to inspect another vial of grace that he had extracted from Gabriel's neck. Gabriel had instantly held onto that piece of information, as it were the little things that still kept him sane.

The hour he spent lying in a pool of his own blood and healing -damn hell hounds- was used on singing Rock Me, Amadeus, only he replaced the name with Asmodeus. Any demon walking by his cell would hear the weak song, that only intensified as the minutes turned into an hour.

Gabriel only knew the chorus, though, so he exclusively sang that.

It seemed that learning of Asmodeus' true identity also changed his behavior around Gabriel, as he became much more cruel and harsh than he already was. He would randomly change up Gabriel's schedule, making him start with Jerry first and hell hounds second. Then he would eliminate Jerry's hour immediately on some days. The last threads of normality Gabriel was holding on to were starting to snap.

As he carved his whateverth line on the wall, his nail eaten away by effort and negligence to heal -he was only healing major damage now, so he was bound to look terrible- Asmodeus burst into his cell himself, calling for him to approach him. As Gabriel went to get up, he demanded he crawl over.

Gabriel got up and swiftly walked over as best as he could manage. Asmodeus chuckled and led him out of the cell, down a different corridor.

"I own you now, boy. I think you surely must have realized by now." Gabriel huffed in annoyance.

"It's high time you start to play your part." A knot formed in Gabriel's stomach at the comment/threat, not looking forward to what was about to happen.

"Yeah, that's gonna happen. You know, why don't you just- go over there, right? Go over there and fuck yourself." Asmodeus stopped walking and Gabriel's defiant eyes looked up at him. Gabriel was glad his spirit was not broken.

Yet.

Asmodeus popped his lips, then turned ahead and continued walking. Gabriel huffed in victory and followed him to a completely different room than the ones he had seen before.

A few demons attached a device -he tried to think it wasn't a collar- on his neck and handed him an angel blade. Gabriel stared at the item in his hand in shock and confusion, then was swiftly thrust to an area that reminded him suspiciously of a WWE ring. Only without the rope and the rabid fans.

Just him, and a 20-something man with grace flaring through his being like wildfire, compared to Gabriel's.

The poor angel was sobbing uncontrollably, the opposite of calm and collected. Gabriel could not help but stare at the figure as he scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out what to do.

On cue, Gabriel heard the sound of a microphone tapping and tightened his grip onto the angel blade.

"Gabriel." That was the first time Gabriel had heard his name uttered by that white suit bastard, and he did not like it one bit. A powerful name like his did not suit the hillbilly voice of a pathetic fool.

"I think you are smart enough to figure out why you're in here at this moment." The angel in front of him let out another sob, grace anxiously burning.

"Yeah, stick it, cowboy." Gabriel replied, instantly receiving a shock to his grace by the collar on his neck. The shock was powerful enough to make him drop the angel blade as he groaned in pain, scuffling on the ground to pick it back up.

"Every time you disobey me, boy, you get punished. Clear?"

When Gabriel did not respond, another shock made his knees buckle and his grace diminish.

"Clear?" Asmodeus' voice was a lot more threatening.

"Crystal." Another shock as Gabriel fell onto his knees and the angel choked another sob.

"You answer with yes or no. Clear?"

"Yeah." Gabriel got up and held onto the wall behind him.

"Good. Your first test is obedience. Directly to your front is a seraph, as you've probably guessed."

"Can't miss him." Gabriel muttered, receiving a smaller dose of shock to his weakened grace.

"I've given you a sword for a reason. On the count of three, you're gonna end his misery." The angel cried out, backing away until he hit the wall.

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek and met the frightened angel's eyes for the first time, feeling their grace intertwine.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," he reassured the angel. He felt the angel's grace relax just slightly, before falling back onto the ground in pain.

"Wrong answer."

"Yeah, fuck you! You can't make me do anything!" Gabriel shouted from the ground, throwing the angel blade in the opposite direction and groaning in pain.

"Last chance, boy. He dies anyway, if you don't kill him yourself, then he's up for torture like you wouldn't believe. Don't you want to make it less painful for him?" Gabriel looked up to meet the now terrified eyes of the angel, his face leaking tears and mucus.

He wasn't sure if he saw acceptance or sheer horror in the angel's eyes. He carefully crawled to where he had thrown his angel blade and grabbed it off the floor, slowly getting up.

"What's your name?" Gabriel asked the angel.

"Cassiel." The angel cried, sending a fresh pang of pain and longing through Gabriel's very being.

"That's a nice name." Once again, Gabriel screamed in pain as the intensity of the shock threatened to diminish his grace.

"What is this, a support group? Don't strike up conversations, boy."

Gabriel's hands shook as he held the angel blade in his palm, stealing glances at Cassiel every few seconds.

"I- Will you forgive me?" Gabriel asked the sobbing angel, who said nothing in response.

Asmodeus waited a few beats, ready to strike Gabriel once more, when Gabriel threw the angel blade on the ground for a final time.

"Fuck you. I'm not doing it. I'm not. You can do it yourselves, I'm sure you have many times. I'm sorry." The last was directed at Cassiel, who instantly began crying once again.

Asmodeus sighed as demons barged in the cell and took Cassiel away, ignoring his screaming protests. Soon, Gabriel was left alone in the cell, having fallen on his knees once more.

"I think we've started off a bit too strong, haven't we." Gabriel turned his head to the speakers, the angel blade still in his hand.

On the 18,250th day of his capture, Gabriel did not kill.

\--

Two hundred years into his capture, Gabriel was killing at least 2 demons a day. He wasn't even forced to most of the time, as soon as he saw the creature in his cell was a demon he struck, mostly out of anger and a myriad of other reasons. Asmodeus was proud of his boy at first, but had quickly gotten bored afterwards. He had to condition him to kill on command, though. He had to make him his.

Once Asmodeus brought him a human, and Gabriel vehemently refused to even touch him. But Asmodeus insisted for 2 hours, and Gabriel was running out of patience and sanity. His angel blade was soon stained red.

Asmodeus knew he was beginning to take the upper hand that day.

That day, after a particularly harsh hell hound session, Gabriel had barely had time to lie down when 3 demons seemed to materialize out of nowhere -or Gabriel had passed out- and dragged the mangled archangel to the Jerry cell. Lying him on top of the slab, Gabriel watched as Jerry appeared on top of him holding a needle and thread, and instantly knew what was about to happen.

No matter how he kicked or screamed or shook his head, within 10 minutes his lips were swollen and grotesque, thread sealing his mouth completely shut. He shouted and screamed and groaned under muffled lips, scratched at the thread to remove it -he couldn't- and was thrown back into his cell for the rest of the day.

Gabriel did not like this at all. Asmodeus took his pride, he took his Liberty, and now he took his voice. He screamed and screamed, begging to be heard. He cried, he pulled at the threads and even snapped them twice, but they were restitched right with the old ones. He tried to heal, but they were removing his grace bit by bit every day and all he would manage by healing was sealing the deal in anyway.

With his mouth sewn shut, Gabriel found himself much more reserved and obeying. His spirit was completely broken, and he suddenly wouldn't mind death all that much anymore.

The light from his eyes slowly began to flicker off, replaced by a darkness he soon came to call his reality. He stopped trying to speak or eve communicate, only grunt and scream in pain. He stopped trying to think rationally, as it was tiring him to think anymore.

Asmodeus started to beat him daily, making the archangel cower in fear, just like he probably always wanted. The years passed and Gabriel even forgot about his past life anymore, his only reality that of endless pain and darkness.

210 years into his capture, Gabriel found the reason they required his grace, as he saw Asmodeus rush to grab the syringe off of Jerry's hands and hastily shove it in his own arm, his face full of euphoria.

But Gabriel couldn't care anymore.

He stopped scratching lines onto the wall, both because he ran out of space and because his nails were pretty much eaten away by that point.

On the 76,650th day of his capture, Gabriel let go.

\--

400 years into his capture, Gabriel killed his first angel.

\--

500 years into his capture, Gabriel tried to kill himself with the angel blade. Asmodeus locked him in isolation for another 50 years, only releasing him to let hell hounds mangle up his body every year.

Gabriel began flinching harshly at any and all loud noises, something that the demons took advantage of. They frequently pulled his hair, slapped him around and tortured him both physically and mentally just for the fun of it. He never looked at one in the eye, his gaze firmly pointed towards the ground.

Gabriel couldn't remember his old life anymore.

\--

800 years into his capture, Gabriel gained special privileges to a small cell -cage- in Asmodeus' lair. Every day he would have a bit of his grace removed and consumed, and then returned back into his cell to either kill someone a few hours later or get mangled up and torn apart.

Gabriel's only reality was now.

\--

1000 years into his capture, Gabriel was given a gift.

He acquired his own cell buddy, a young seraph named...

He had forgotten his name.

Asmodeus mentioned the seraph to Gabriel while draining his daily dose of archangel grace, and by the time he was back in his cell the seraph was curled up against the wall, grace beaten down badly.

The seraph was instantly horrified at the sight, scurrying away to the east corner of the room. Gabriel paid no attention to the angel as he took his own corner opposite the angel and brought his knees up to his chest. Blood was staining the archangel on every part of his body, and he didn't pay attention to healing much anymore. His grace belonged to Asmodeus now.

Communication was feasible, but took a long time. After a year or two, the seraph began to make small talk every time Gabriel returned more and more broken and taken apart. Gabriel noticed that the seraph wasn't really going through as much as he was himself, his rags in relatively good shape and not a drop of blood that he could find anywhere on him.

Once, the seraph pointed at his lips, motioning for Gabriel to do the same. Gabriel didn't react, his gaze falling back onto the floor. He was trapped deep within his mind by then, with no chance of escaping it.

The angel wasn't about to give up on him, though. For some reason. He made small talk almost constantly, ranging from his family to to the apocalypse to the angels falling. Gabriel could faintly hear some of what he was saying, but the slight buzzing in his ears that had established itself as permanent around 300 years ago wouldn't let him hear much.

Despite their weird and awkward relationship, Gabriel didn't mind the angel's presence anymore. He offered a great means of distraction from the cold rocky cell floor.

Gabriel began finding himself involuntarily pulling away at the hand movements the angel did, imagining Asmodeus' hands as he reached to pet his archangel's hair after extracting his grace. He hated it, he was afraid of it.

He soon saw Asmodeus' hands in every pair of hands, saw Asmodeus' body in every body that was moving towards him. His reality became centered to and by Asmodeus.

Despite his behavior, the angel offered him comfort at times when he needed physical touch but at the same time cowered away from it. He appreciated the gesture, even went so far as to consider the seraph a friend.

Two years later, he was facing him in the WWE cell.

The seraph was unusually calmer than every other angel he saw in front of him, something that threw him off. His mind was conflicted between following Asmodeus' orders and wanting to spare the seraph. As the shock threatened to extinguish his grace and Asmodeus' voice boomed over his very being, the angel in front of him smiled kindly at him. It was the first smile he had seen in God knew how long, and a small part of his old self resurfaced with a splash.

He kneeled down next to the angel's dead body, a mere vessel now, the bloody blade in his hands falling out of them. He remained in that position until he was dragged off to be beaten for near disobedience.

On the 365,730th day of his capture, Gabriel broke.

\--

1280 years into his capture, as Gabriel sat on his slab in his dark cell, head in his hands, an unfamiliar voice accompanied the familiar voice. An unfamiliar face accompanied the familiar one, and light was suddenly thrust into his eyes as he nervously stared in horror into the man's -confused?- irises, Asmodeus' voice introducing him as his most prized possession. Unaware he was staring right into his ticket out of here. Only he was 1280 years too late.

On the day he was liberated of his capture, Gabriel didn't feel as free as he should. Staring into the familiar eyes of the familiar man being too gentle with him, Gabriel racked his brain to try and remember the reason the long haired face reminded him of something. But he could only see Asmodeus' face. He could only see Asmodeus' hands and Asmodeus' torso.

Albeit a free man now, Gabriel didn't feel like one. But the kind eyes of the stranger in front of him -too kind- gave him a reason to hope, a feeling he had given up and expelled away from his heart.

On the last day of his capture, Gabriel felt hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The familiar stranger is Sam, in case someone didn't get that. Thanks for reading!


End file.
